The night had settled over the mansion like a heavy velvet curtain, but outside, the air crackled and hummed with a tension that refused to settle. Every step, every glance, every measured breath seemed magnified, a note in a quiet symphony of imminent violence and unspoken truths.
"Who the hell are you?" Adrian's voice suddenly cut, deceptively casual, as if he were unaware of the insult. The words were soft but tremored with underlying menace.
Nico's eyes flicked toward Enzo, useless and reckless as always, and he stepped forward, a coil of controlled fury barely restrained. A handful of their men had followed inside, the rest lingering outside in cautious formation. If a war were to start in that moment, Adrian had the upper hand; before the Romano men could even breach the threshold, chaos would have broken, and they were not here to spark chaos.
"Don't act like you don't know who we are," Nico's voice cut through the night, taut with impatience and warning.
